


A Thrill Of Hope

by May_Belle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Caroler Stiles, Christmas, Christmas fic, Derek is Stiles' Christmas miracle, M/M, So many stereotypical old lady names, Stiles doesn't actually have any singing skills, Stiles meets Derek one night while caroling and wants to jump his bones, Stiles serenades Derek with Christmas carols, This was supposed to be a fic for Christmas but I couldn't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Belle/pseuds/May_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door opens maybe a minute after he rings the bell. Stiles has just finished the first verse of "Let It Snow". Scowly stands there in a wife-beater and shorts and his legs are unbelievable.</p><p>"What the hell are you doing?" he growls out.</p><p>"Caroling. Didn't you hear me? The weather outside is frightful."</p><p>He frowns, "It's sunny."</p><p>"Exactly. Ultraviolet radiation, sun burn, skin cancer. Frightful."</p><p>"This is the best weather we've had in weeks. People were out jogging and walking their dogs this morning."</p><p>"But the fire is so delightful."</p><p>"You're not even singing. You're say-ing."</p><p>Stiles laughs, "Oh, I can't sing dude."</p><p>The door closes in his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thrill Of Hope

Stiles doesn't sign up for caroling willingly. Stiles doesn't even sing besides the perfunctory Star Spangled Banner at baseball games or the short jingle he composed and dedicated to Greenberg which is pretty much just lots of swear words and insults set to the tune of Low by Flo Rida.

He doesn't consider the butchering he does to top 40 hits when he listens to the radio while driving singing. It's more like flashy, overdone wailing, because you'd better believe that when Mariah goes for it, Stiles doesn't back down either. Tone deafness be damned.

So no, Stiles doesn't sign up for caroling willingly. It's colder than it's ever been in years for a town that doesn't snow and no one in their right mind would subject themselves to such torture willingly.

He signed up only because Lydia, Allison and Scott had insisted on it. "It doesn't pay, but it's nice to give back to the community in that way," Allison had guilt tripped. "Plus we'd get to do it together," Lydia had added only to leave him hanging when both herself and Allison instead took  _paying_  jobs as Santa's helpers at the mall and Scott's dad took Scott and his mom to a ski resort in Aspen.

By that time, it was too late for Stiles to bail. Not when all the cute, little old ladies caroling with him had developed such a fondness for him. Seeing as he was the youngest and only male member, Stiles thought they must have found it honorable that he was committed enough to attend every practice and stick it out 'till the end. He's single handedly giving them faith in his entire generation. Plus, his dad had been so proud that he was being productive with his free time, spending the week leading up to Christmas day spreading Christmas cheer to the townsfolk rather than spreading an assortment of chips and dips across the living room coffee table and watching his favorite Christmas classics all day.

Funny enough though, he's not even a bit bitter about having been bailed on or even the fact that he's having to hang with fifty to eighty year old ladies for four to six hours a day for a week, because to be completely honest, he's been having a pretty good time. Sure, he's the worst of the fifteen carolers, but they shove him between Gloria and Maribel and sandwiched between their booming soprano, Stiles' squawking is pretty much muted out and the group as a unit sound amazing; like little old lady angels.

So in addition to old lady bickering which is always entertaining, he's also treated to some quality entertainment. He's never truly appreciated good singing until he heard Trudy, Pam and Yolanda come up with three part harmony to The First Noel on the spot. Just by like,  _listening_  to one another. Crazy right?

It probably wasn't as spectacular as Stiles made it out to be to someone with perfect pitch and a keen 'ear for music', but to Stiles who found difficulty even executing the warm up exercises (most of which don't even involve any actual singing), it was one of the coolest things he's ever witnessed and he's actually pretty thankful for the entire experience.

The pie recipes and pastries he receives from Trudy and Maria almost daily (apparently it's an age old competition between the two) isn't bad either.

 

...

 

But of course, he's been singing every cold, frigid night now for three nights in a row and the novelty of it all has been ever fading. Even more so since they sing the same songs every night. Sometimes the order of the songs in their repertoire would change, but other than that the night was spent singing the same fifteen Christmas carols over and over and over again. The little old ladies seem to only enjoy it more and more every night, but Stiles is a seventeen year old boy (his ADHD doesn't help either) and the only teenager present. Novelty is a fickle thing for him, especially without Scott there to put explicit spins on the holiday classics. They're not usually the wittiest things and sometimes they were borderline blasphemous, but they were entertaining.

Nothing - _absolutely nothing_  was entertaining about listening to the same fifteen songs being sang (listening, because he'd stopped singing altogether midway through their second night) twenty to thirty times a night to a majority of unappreciative townsfolk. Even Mrs Greene's superb B6 at the end of O Holy Night seemed to lack a bit of luster after what seemed like the hundredth time.

He was having to fight his ever growing urge to stealthily slither away from the group, (probably during Carol of the Bells, the ladies would always get so emotional then) hide in someone's hedges and, once they've inevitably given up looking for him, take the long walk home never to carol again.

He finds his motivation to persevere the next night.

 

...

 

It's been a while since Stiles has been to this particular part of Beacon Hills, since Lydia's moved on to an even wealthier gated community and, even then, this one's still several zeros per pay check too many for him to have any friends here or take the risk of just strolling through lest Mrs Brooks report him to his dad again for trespassing. (He was  _simply_ taking a shortcut through the elegantly cut grass of her front lawn to get to Lydia's house.)

Their first house tonight has a similar look to The Brooks'. Neatly trimmed hedges that fence the large front lawn and a stone walkway leading to the front door trailed at it's edges by parallel patches of small, beautiful, lavender flowers he doesn't even think is endemic to California. Opal is able to pocket a few she claims will grow just as well in her  _"middle class mulch"_ (Stiles doubts it) before the door opens and Stiles sees his Christmas miracle.

Now Stiles has only ever met Lydia and Mrs Brooks from these parts so logically, he shouldn't be as stunned as he is that the scowly guy who opens the door is as attractive as he is.

But he is. Stiles is stunned.

He's stunned first by the man's beautiful eyes. It's the fall of dusk outside and the man is standing partitioned between the slowly cascading darkness of outside and the bright lighting within his home. The contrasting lighting halos his entire body and does mystical things to this guy's pale, green speckled eyes. Makes them shine and twinkle and a bunch of other adjectives normally used to describe night stars.

Stiles notices his face next, powdered with neat stubble that defines his jawline and highlights his heavenly cheekbones. He's tall and toned at the shoulders and biceps. His muscular chest is outlined in the shirt he's wearing and though it falls more loosely over the guy's torso, Stiles is willing to bet his abs are just as muscular and spectacular as the rest of him. He envisions Chris Hemsworth's abs for visual aid.

"Oh Holy fu-"

Gloria shoves her elbow into his side. "We're singing O Holy Night _last_ , Stiles," Gloria whispers harshly next to him. "You were at the meeting."

Stiles doesn't answer, nor does he sing for the entire medley (well,  _mime_ ), just uses his back row position, perfect for vantage without mutual detection, to stare at this otherworldly man for the five minutes it takes for their singing to be over. He watches entranced as the guy's scowl levels to something close to a minute non-smile and listens to his voice as he compliments the group on their "great singing". Then it's all over. Hot guy closes the door and Gloria corrals him to the next house, scolding him all the while.

"Joy to the world is up next," she reminds him once they're the next house over.

"He can bring joy to _my_ world," Stiles says, still in a daze so he doesn't see the way Gloria eyes him with deep concern.

 

...

 

"Hi."

"You're supposed to run away  _before_  I open the door," Hot Guy replies standing in front of him and Stiles has no clue how he got here. He doesn't remember walking here, was probably propelled to involuntary movement fueled by his infatuation.

Most importantly, he doesn't remember telling any of his friends about this impromptu visit to the house of the older guy he's crushing on, because he's pretty sure they would've put the necessary measures in place to prevent this disaster in the making.

Stiles tries not to flush. He thinks he mostly succeeds.

"Oh. Um, no. This isn't ding-dong ditch," Stiles explains. "Seeing as I'm not twelve."

An eyebrow raises in response. Stiles interprets it to mean, " _are you sure?_ " and suddenly Stiles' stomach grows wings that begin to flutter, because it is so hot the way he does that with his eyebrows.

"I'm not twelve," Stiles promises, though he doesn't divulge his real age either. He's trying to appear as desirable as possible (He wore his best pair of jeans and a semi-clean T-shirt) and conventionally, seventeen year olds aren't usually to approximately twenty-three to twenty-five year olds. Plus, if this guy is actually gay - if his luck actually allows him that  _one thing -_  he has confidence his wit and charm will do the rest. He's been told on numerous occasions that his personality is infectious. He's pretty sure it was meant as a compliment.

Instead of his age, Stiles offers his hand and a smile.

Eyebrows frowns and ignores it completely, then he sighs. "Are you a neighbor?" he asks. "Is this some sort of belated welcome to the neighborhood?" He gestures to the pan in Stiles' other hand. "That's not peach cobbler is it?" It is. Maria's recipe. "Because that's not necessary. Seriously, I won't bother you if you don't bother me."

Stiles blinks, takes his hand back. "Pretty sure that's not how neighbors work," Stiles explains. "Besides, I'm not your neighbor. I don't even live near here-"

Hot Guy slams the door in his face.

 

When his dad eats the peach cobbler that night, he complains that it's way too sweet but also bitter in a way cobbler isn't supposed to be, but he eats the entire thing anyway.

 

...

 

Stiles manages a few more erratic visits towards the end of December to find that Christmas Miracle isn't home each and every time. Then school reopens and Stiles doesn't have the time to make the trip across town. He's at school during the day and his dad's home at nights. He's got homework and cooking duties on afternoons and a job at the vet's with Scott on weekends.

He'd use the "I'm going over to Scott's to hang" excuse if it weren't for the fact that his dad knows Scott spends most afternoons now with Allison. He's arrested the two more than once at make out point doing a lot more than just making out.

When Stiles finally tell his friends about hot, scowly rich guy, a few days into the new year Scott is super supportive. Of course he is. He's Scott. He thinks it's cute that Stiles is "practically obsessed" (to quote Lydia) with this guy because it reminds him of himself and Allison.

But Scott's approval renews his determination and a few days later he tells his dad he's simply going for a calming drive since he's been worked up all day. Worked up in anticipation of seeing Green Eyes again, but his dad doesn't need to know that. His dad tells him to be back in an hour so he heads straight to thirteenth street Gallagher Trace.

The door opens maybe a minute after he rings the bell. Stiles has just finished the first verse of "Let It Snow". Scowly stands there in a wife-beater and shorts and his legs are  _unbelievable_.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growls out.

"Caroling. Didn't you hear me? The weather outside is frightful."

He frowns, "It's sunny."

"Exactly. Ultraviolet radiation, sun burn, skin cancer. Frightful."

"This is the best weather we've had in weeks. People were out jogging and walking their dogs this morning."

"But the fire is so delightful."

"You're not even singing. You're  _say_ -ing."

Stiles laughs, "Oh, I can't sing dude."

Growly-face scoffs. "But you were here caroling just over a month ago."

Stiles eyes grow wide and his cheeks ache with the grin that suddenly takes over his face. "Holy shit. Holy  _shit_ , you totally remember me."

The door closes in his face.

 

...

 

Stiles tries a more direct approach next time which happens to come three weeks later when his dad has to take an overnight shift due to an emergency at the station.

Stiles has rang the doorbell twenty-nine times in immediate succession before Biceps opens the door.

"So, I'm Stiles-"

"I'll call the cops."

"-and I'm actually trying to seduce you, in case you hadn't noticed."

Stubble doesn't look surprised when he says in response, "I should tell you that ringing my doorbell repeatedly isn't the way to go about seducing someone. The housewife on eighth actually stopped baking me stuff when I asked her to. She's got you beat by a long shot."

Stiles groans petulantly, "But I've  _never_ baked you stuff. If you ever tasted my chocolate chip surprise, you'd know that's enough to put me in first." When Gorgeous doesn't respond, Stiles expounds, "The surprise is diarrhea."

"God, you're aggravating."

"Excuse you, I spread holiday cheer."

"You're seasonally inconsistent. It's distressing."

"Yeah, well you're melodramatic."

"Goodbye, Stiles."

Stiles watches the door close on him with a smile on his face and counts this visit as a win because Cute Bunny Teeth totally called him Stiles and it's the best his name has ever sounded.

 

...

 

Stiles draws a penis on his test paper for Mr Harris' Chemistry class and gets detention for one week and grounded for two, so the next time he visits Thirteenth Street Gallagher Trace is in late February.

He doesn't ring the doorbell because Hot Guy doesn't like that. He knocks twice and the door swings open on the third.

"Stiles?" Cora Hale says to him because  _Cora Hale_  just opened Hot Guy's door.

"Oh my God. Oh my God."

Cora's eyes light up upon seeing his distress, like a light suddenly switched on in her mind. "Holy shit, you're annoying ass caroling kid," she exclaims and Stiles thinks  _Rude_  because he totally told Hot Guy that his name was Stiles the _last_  time he was here.

"Oh my God," Stiles says a moment later, when he actually comprehends what's happening; why Cora Hale would be  _in_  Hot Guy's house, opening his door, greeting his visitors. "You're his sister aren't you? God, how the fuck did I not put that together?"

She smirks, he winces, then she laughs at his obvious emotional distress. "If it's any consolation, annoying ass caroling kid isn't all Derek calls you."

"God, I don't even want to know," he groans, then realizes, "Derek. His name is Derek Hale" and immediately commits it to memory.

"You sure you don't want me to tell you? Because I think you'd really like it-"

Cora disappears suddenly and Derek appears in front of him, leaning casually against the door frame. Stiles immediately turns on him.

"Why didn't you tell me you're Cora Hale's brother?"

Derek cocks an eyebrow, nonchalant. "We've never actually had a conversation beyond you annoying me and me asking you to leave."

Stiles ignores him. "We go to school together. God, she's in my Chemistry class. She's  _never_  gonna let me live this down."

Derek's eyes widen, "You're seventeen." It's not a question.

"That is so beside the point," Stiles hurries to say, but the cat's already out of the bag if the shock on Derek's face is any indication. Clearly Derek thought he was older, which,  _such_  an ego booster. Seriously.

"Stiles, why are you really here?" Derek asks, face pinched, "Besides to interrupt my dinner."

"I told you already, I'm enraptured by your face."

Derek rolls his eyes, "That's superficial."

Stiles takes the change of subject and rolls with it. "Well all I've seen of your personality is hostility."

"You haven't given me reason to be anything but."

Stiles scoffs loudly. Pokes Derek in his stupid, gorgeous, muscular, rippling chest. "Are you kidding me? Dude, I serenade you. What more could you want?"

"You're caroling. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bell Rock are hardly the songs of serenades." Derek folds his arms across his chest. He doesn't look dismissive, he almost looks interested.

"You're saying you'd give me the time of day if I sang you a proper song?"

Derek shrugs, "Sure."

So Stiles takes a deep breath, remembers Gloria and Maribel and his five days of vocal training for caroling.

He clears his throat. "Hot damn it, your booty like two planets-"

The door shuts in his face before he can blame the poor song choice on nerves, but not before he saw the blush that spread across Derek's face to the tips of his ears. Stiles smiles to himself and inside the house he hears Cora screaming in laughter.

 

...

 

Stiles startles full-bodied when he hears Cora call out his name from what seems to be  _right_  behind him, which is terrifying considering there was literally no one in the hallway with him two seconds ago since it's class time and he's going to the bathroom with a hall pass.

They weren't even in the same class that period, so Stiles asks, "How did you know I was out here?"

"This morning when I smacked you upside your big head, I planted a tracking device in your thick skull."

"I actually wouldn't put that past you." Stiles slows his pace, lets her fall into step with him.

"So, it may not seem like it," Cora starts, "but I like you Stilinski."

Stiles stops, blinks at her. Cora rolls her eyes and Stiles feel like a total ass for not realizing that she was related to Derek. The eye roll is almost  _identical_.

"Yes, it's true. Don't have an aneurysm."

"I was just taking a moment to send my prayers out to those people you  _don't_  like."

Cora punches him in the arm, hard, then says without adequate warning, "I'm gonna hook you up with my brother."

Stiles suffers a mild heart attack. He takes a few deep breaths, steadies his voice, "What's in it for you?" he asks, because this is Cora Hale. There's always something in it for her.

"Having an in-law I can actually tolerate,"

Stiles chokes on air at the mention of in-laws. "I think I'm having a stroke."

"Think about it," She says with a smile, "Derek Stilinski can become a reality if you just let me help you."

"Do you really think he'd take my last name?"

Cora laughs, "No. It's called embellishment. I'm a saleswoman Stiles. This is me trying to get you to agree to my pitch."

"That's not necessary," Stiles says arriving at the boys' bathroom. "I'm the complete opposite of a hard sell when it comes to your brother."

Cora grimaces. "Cute. I'm gagging."

 

...

 

Cora doesn't really help him much past telling him Derek's work hours so that Stiles can better predict the times at which Derek will be home. She also told him who Derek's guilty pleasure singer is so the next time Stiles knocks on the olive green door, he's prepared.

Derek opens the door, immediately folds his huge arms across his chest and leans against the door frame. "Let's just get this over with."

Stiles glares at him, because he's been preparing this for two weeks and Derek's indifference is hurtful.

"I'm gonna take your breath away," Stiles vows.

"I doubt it."

Stiles huffs, "Dude, I've been doing vocal exercises all week. I've drank nothing but lemon and honey for the past forty-eight hours. I might spasm a few times during this, but I swear I'm not dying. It's just my body reacting to all the sugar." When Derek doesn't respond, he continues, "I'm guilt tripping you into not closing the door in my face, by the way, that's what's actually happening here. I totally risked my good health for you so you'd better just stand there, don't move and keep your mouth shut until I'm done. Got it?"

"'Keep your mouth shut'?" he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Have you been taking romancing lessons from Cora?"

"Listen, I have a battalion of Shania Twain at my disposal. I don't need to be polite for you to love me just the same."

Derek chokes on air and it's so satisfying. Stiles grins and begins.

Four minutes and twelve Shania Twain songs later, Stiles grins up at Derek who has a million unreadable expressions on his face, like he doesn't know which one would suit this moment right. It makes Stiles unexpectedly nervous and rambley.

"So, how was I? I know my breathing was terrible. Gloria would've castrated me if she heard it. Unfairly though, because not everyone has her pregnant-cow-sized lungs. The song transitions weren't great either, I literally just sang a shortened version of each song in succession and called it a medley. There's a musical genius rolling in his grave as we speak. God, I was horrible, wasn't I? What was I thinking? Do you even  _like_  Shania Twian? It would be just like Cora to make me sing songs by a singer you hate. I'm such an idiot. You totally look like an alternative-rock type of guy too. It's Coldplay isn't it? Cora was just shitting me, right- "

Stiles freezes the second Derek's hand connects with his shoulder in a light touch that's obviously meant to calm him down but it does the exact opposite. Stiles' heart races and he goes from 'nervous and rambley' to 'on the brink of a panic attack'. Derek is looking at him with an expression Stiles can now distinguish to be concern. Stiles reigns in his emotions until the concern leaves Derek's features. Then Derek nods and smiles at him. Stiles salivates.

"You were good, Stiles."

Stiles' knees go weak. "Thanks, Derek."

 

...

 

Stiles doesn't see Derek for a month after he accuses Cora of lying to him about Shania Twain being Derek's favorite singer because the schedule she gives him of "The Best Times To Stalk My Bro" are in reality the absolute  _worst_  times. He stops using the schedule completely only when he parks in front of Derek's house after two weeks of failed encounters and a patrol car parks behind his jeep. Turns out 'someone' in the neighborhood reported a suspicious and awkward looking kid prowling around the Hale's house after hours. Stiles is lucky enough to have the two officers be close friends of his dad, they're practically his God-parents, who let him off with a stern warning (from Officer Gardner) and well wishes with his romantic advances (from Officer Harries). He's always been a hopeless romantic.

Stiles never does find out whether it's Cora or Mrs Brooks who made the report. They both eye him with sly grins on their faces the next few times he happens to see them around the neighborhood/at school.

The next time he sees Derek is actually a complete accident and it's at the last place he would have ever thought to look. The Jungle.

Stiles actually hasn't been to the club in a while due to the hassle and drama of having to bribe Danny for fake IDs for himself, Isaac and Erica then bribing the bouncer to let the underage son of the local Sheriff into a gay twenty-one plus club when he inevitably has his unconvincing fake ID thrown into the pile beside the door with all the other sad, underaged losers who won't get to bump n' grind tonight. Luckily, he gets in embarrassing fake ID bust free. Even more luckily, the hot, older guy clearly way out of his league that he decides to test his luck with after three drinks that looks a lot like Derek actually turns out to be Derek.

Stiles had just backed up onto him and spun around to face the taller man when their eyes met and the familiar pale green ones he dreams about at night stare back at him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Mr Hale," Stiles is grinning and dancing as he says it, the drink in his hand sloshing over the sides and onto the floor.

Derek groans, reaching out to steady Stiles' drink, then to steady the source of his swaying body by placing his hands on either side of Stiles' hips, ceasing its movement.

"I was beginning to think the reason you haven't given me the time of day was because you weren't gay or something, but here you are," Stiles laughs.

Stiles is only a tiny bit tipsy, contrary to his body movements (he's naturally flaily and unstable) but Derek looks at him with concerned eyes and by the look of his eyebrows, he's also aggravated by the state Stiles is in, like an disgruntled parent. It's completely unwarranted because Stiles may be underaged but he can handle himself. Besides, if the situation ever got dire enough that he couldn't, he had Isaac who hadn't drank all night (designated driver) and could surely take on any drunk mess that tried to make a move on Stiles without his consent. Lacrosse had worked wonders on Isaac's muscle to fat ratio.

"Hey," Stiles starts, placing a hand on Derek's forearm, "you don't have to look so concer-"

Derek snarls, "You ever thought maybe the reason I don't give you the time of day is because I just don't want to date you, Stiles?"

It's the last thing Stiles expects to hear but if he's being honest with himself, he should have seen it coming. It's not that difficult a concept to grasp since it's only logical that Derek - tall, dark, stunningly attractive, older, rich, entrepreneur Derek Hale - wouldn't be interested in seventeen year old, lanky, high schooler Stiles Stilinski. Sure Stiles is lovable and witty and bright and people tend to take to him naturally despite the fact that he's a bit of an asshole on his best days, but it's ridiculous of him to think that that would be enough to cancel out all of his other glaring faults. And when Stiles thinks about how much of a pushy, annoying well  _nuisance_  he'd been to Derek since Christmas, he can't fault Derek for being as blunt as he was, no matter how much it hurt. It's not like Stiles was paying any mind to his glaringly obvious hints anyway.

Stiles desperately wants to prove Derek wrong though, show him that he's not some immature kid, tripping over himself for a chance to be with him especially if this is the last time they'll ever see each other, but Stiles can  _feel_  himself crumpling inward, physically pulling out of Derek's grasp and emotionally withdrawing. It hard to remain on his feet when the shame and humiliation hits him hard in the chest, but he manages it barely. He can't do anything about the red tells of embarrassment rising on his face in what are probably huge, unattractive splotches of colour.

"I'll just -I'll go," Stiles voice shakes to say and he turns around quickly in embarrassment, away from Derek's searching eyes. Stiles doesn't need his pity. He needs his bed and a tub of Ben and Jerry's because the sooner he begins his healing process the better.

Stiles moves to make a hasty retreat when Derek's calloused hands grab at him again, this time from behind, spinning Stiles around to face him before he can even get a foot of distance between them. Stiles wants to claw the contrite expression off Derek face. He doesn't get to look at Stiles like that, like he can't stand to see the emotions reflected on Stiles' face, not when Derek is the one who made him that way. Why can't Derek just let him leave with what little dignity he has left?

Stiles settles for glaring at him and at the tight grip of his stupid hands on Stiles anchoring him to the spot. He tries to pull away but Derek's grip doesn't budge and Stiles contemplates how immature it would be of him to pepper spray Derek in his stupid, handsome face.

"Let me go."

"Wait -just. Wait a minute." Derek releases him and passes a hand over his face in exasperation. "You're infuriating," he starts, then says genuinely, apologetically, sincerely, "I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry."

The weight of the statement tells Stiles all he needs to know, but he still has to make sure. "For the first thing, or that last thing?" Stiles bites his lip so it doesn't quiver.

"The first thing," Derek explains. He looks resigned when he steps forward and cups Stiles' jaw. Stiles is still reeling from the drastic change of events so he can't fully appreciate the way Derek is thumbing soothing circles into his cheek. A minute ago he was preparing to forget Derek Hale forever and move on with his life and now he's leaning into Derek's soft caresses. "You're still infuriating." Stiles goes to protest, Derek cuts him off with the pad of his thumb against Stiles' lips, sealing them shut, "-but it doesn't mean I don't want you. I do. You're beautiful and smart mouthed and persistent and my sisters seem to think you're perfect for me, but I can't do this with you."

"Why not?" Stiles demands to know so he can eliminate the problem asap. So he can have Derek look at him like this for the rest of his life.

"You're seventeen, Stiles."

Stiles shrugs, using the movement to cuddle further into Derek's grasp, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You wouldn't," Derek laughs sadly. "It's a problem because it means that I'm five years older than you are. It means that if I touch you like I want to, - despite what you consent,  _Stiles_ \- I'll be thrown in jail. As much as I want this, and I do Stiles, I want you, I can't do this. At least not now. Not while you're still a minor."

"But I don't turn eighteen for another five months," Stiles groans, flattens his face against Derek's chest. It's as firm as he thought it would be. "This is so unfair."

"Cora told me your dad's the Sheriff. You're the epitome of jail-bait and you made me fall for you," Derek tells him, rubbing circles into his back. " _That's_  unfair."

They spend a few moments in silence, simply embracing one another among all the gyrating couples, until Stiles predictably breaks it. He looks up at Derek and questions with a smile, "So, what was it?"

Derek looks down at him, confused. "What was what?"

"What did it?" Stiles asks, "what got you hooked? Was it my charm? My wit? My singing?"

Derek pulls him close, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's slim waist and Derek does the same. "No one's ever serenaded me with Christmas carols in March or sang me a medley of Shania Twain."

Stiles laughs against his chest, before holding him tighter.

"Stiles?"

"I- Listen," Stiles hides his face in Derek's chest, "I know I came across pretty one-track-minded, but I do like you for more than your butt."

Derek hugs him closer and laughs against Stiles' hair. The prospect of hearing that laugh every day makes Stiles think waiting five months won't be as hard as it seems.

 

...

 

It's as hard as it seemed. Actually, it's harder than that. Stiles is a mess. Stiles is Hazel in her bedroom with her parents after she gets the news that Augustus has died. Stiles is also never taking movie suggestions from Erica ever again. Especially not when she promises it's a "feel good movie sure to lift your spirits". It did the exact opposite. He'd dreamed about Derek abandoning him in Amsterdam and/or falling down the stairs and breaking his neck at the Anne Frank House for an entire week. It's a lot better than some of the other things he could have dreamed given the subject matter of the movie, but it's still terrible and depressing.

Actually, 'depressed' is the perfect word to describe how Stiles is feeling walking through the lunch room at month three out of five.

He drops his tray onto the table, takes his seat and slams his face into his food.

"I thought you said it would get better," Scott whispers to Allison.

"I thought it would," she replies. "It's not like they're never going to be together. They have a five month arrangement."

"Five long months," Stiles sobs into his mashed potatoes.

"God, I can't watch this," Stiles hears Boyd say, before he hears a chair scrape along the tiles then feet retreating from the table.

"I can," Erica says sprightly across from him.

"Fuck you both," Stiles groans, licks some of the potato off his lips. It's too salty. He groans again.

Hands slam down onto the table. He suspects it's Lydia. "Will you stop that?  _Jesus_." Bingo. "How many more days is it-"

" _Seventy-eiiggghhhttt._ "

"Seventy-eight days and you'll literally have the hottest guy in Beacon Hills-" Jackson scoffs. "-after Jackson-" Stiles hears a smack of lips from where Jackson must have kissed her on the cheek. "-all over you. You get to lose your virginity to a walking sex God. You and Derek are pretty much guaranteed to get together and have great sex and beautiful children. All _you_  have to do is be patient and stop whining all the time like a goddamned, bratty, spoiled five year old."

There's a lull in conversation then before Stiles, of course, breaks it with a loud groan because: "Lydia, you said his  _nammeee_."

"Oh God, Jackson we're leaving," she proclaims, then a second later she's gone.

Stiles sits up to survey the table, see if there's anyone there besides Scott willing to listen to his very real, very warranted concerns.

"What if he forgets about me?" he asks the table sadly.

Cora throws her hands up in exasperation. "I literally have to answer this question everyday, once at home and once school. I won't do it  _any more_ ," she states resolutely then picks up her tray and leaves the table.

That leaves Erica who's still smirking at his misery, Isaac who's using the lunch break time to catch a few z's between classes, Allison grimacing at what must be all the potato up his nose (he can see her hand twitching to go full mother hen on him) and Scott, good ole Scott who looks genuinely concerned and willing to listen to Stiles whine and groan for at least fifteen more minutes.

"Can't you call him, or even text?" Scott asks. "There is actually technology for long distance communication, Stiles."

"I've tried that."

"And what's the problem?"

"He won't answer."

Scott frowns, "Why the hell not? That butthole-"

" _Noo_ ," Stiles cries, "It's my fault. It's because I left him a message on his company phone once accidentally."

"What kind of message?"

"A sexy one.." Stiles says and when Scott laughs and shakes his head, Stiles shrugs. "He totally got off with a warning."

The lunch bell rings then. Erica taps his nose with a finger then licks the mashed potato that it came away with before recommending he watch Brokeback Mountain tonight. He frowns before giving Allison his face. She pulls out her cleaning wipes, tissues and lip balm and gets to work.

 

...

 

Stiles' eighteenth birthday, when it finally arrives, isn't anything like he envisioned it would be.

He'd woken up the morning of and Derek wasn't laying glistening and gloriously naked in bed with him. He'd gone to shower and Derek wasn't waiting covered only in soap suds as a naked surprise for him. He'd gone to the kitchen and Derek wasn't naked holding heart shaped, blueberry pancakes smothered in syrup out for him. He'd checked his phone, not one dick pic.

But most importantly, not a single call.

At first he thinks it's just that Derek hasn't gotten any time to call him yet since the office is usually its busiest on mornings. But then rush hour passes and Derek hasn't called yet and Stiles thinks it's understandable that Derek would have forgotten about it since they haven't actually spoken very much in five months besides a few calls, some visits and running into each other at the grocery; that Derek would have forgotten about  _him_.

Chemistry is his last class of the day and he goes with a single-minded determination to interrogate the truth out of Cora; why her brother hadn't called, why all his attempts at reaching Derek were going to voice-mail, why her brother doesn't have a personal email because Stiles _has words_ for him, except Cora isn't in class today.

The bell rings after school and Stiles leaves his friends and their questioning, confused faces and makes a beeline right for his jeep. He just wants to be alone for a while. If he cries a bit too, well it's understandable, isn't it?

He's just yanked open the door and put a foot over the threshold of his car when strong hands pull him out, set him on his feet and grabs his hand in theirs. He looks up, shocked to see Derek's broad shoulders, his soft, dark hair. Shock propels him all the way to where Derek leads him, which happens to be in the center of the parking lot and Derek shoved a lot of shoulders and stepped on a lot of feet to get there so Stiles isn't surprised by the number of people staring at them both.

Derek turns around, takes Stiles' right hand in his then brings his own left hand up to his face. Stiles watches in confusion as Derek looks intently at his watch, his lips are mouthing numbers and Stiles realizes after a moment that he's counting down.

Stiles tiptoes to glance at the watch on Derek's arm as well. It's digital and says 2:58:50 pm just as Derek's lips say ten, then nine, then eight.. and Stiles realizes then what this is.

Derek is  _such an idiot_...

...with amazing, skillful lips and a tongue that's just _sinful_ the way it nudges it's way into Stiles' mouth. Stiles is vaguely aware of all the wolf whistling and cat calling, but it's almost completely drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ears, by the moans he's letting out against Derek's lips.

When Derek breaks apart, his lips are shiny and he's smiling.

"There," he says. "I kissed you the exact moment you were born."

Stiles is still a bit dazed by the kiss, but once he's made sense of Derek's words he punches Derek right in the chest. "You stupid piece of shit."

Derek frowns almost instantly. "I thought for sure you'd like that. I think I got the exact time right and I got Cora to stay home today so it'd be a secret-" Stiles tackles Derek's lips with his own before Derek can say anything more.

"Oh my God, you're such an idiot," he says against Derek's lips.

"So you _did_  like it?"

"I hated it. I've had to wait for this day for five months and you make me wait almost an entire day more for the sake of being sentimental?"

"You're supposed to say 'I loved it, Derek. I'd wait a million years for you'."

"I want you in me yesterday," Stiles whispers against Derek's lips and laughs happily when Derek chokes on air.

 

...

 

That night Stiles makes a point of drawing things out, riding Derek slowly, then making Derek wait and wait  _and wait_  for his own release.

 

 

...

 

**Author's Note:**

> -Stiles is singing "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo.


End file.
